Reverie
by memorysdaughter
Summary: Neville and Luna's daughter receives her Hogwarts acceptance letter, but the circumstances surrounding her acceptance are as one-of-a-kind as the girl herself.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I don't know where I got the inspiration for this, but it's been in my head for awhile. I hope you will enjoy it. I love reviews - and my reviewers!

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><p>"<em>You are my lovely girl, my very, very lovely girl, I love you and I love that you are mine…"<em> Luna sang to her daughter. The two of them lay under a broad-limbed oak tree on Hogwarts' verdant grounds, enjoying a peaceful summer day. Overhead the swaying leaves made dark-and-light patterns on the cool grass.

"_You are my pretty girl, my very, very pretty girl, you are my love and I love that you're mine…"_

Fiona Reverie Longbottom kept her blue eyes on the tree's limbs, her tiny rosebud mouth pursing as she stared at the waving leaves. She was pale and blond like her mother, with long curly tresses spiraling down her back. And though she had just turned eleven, her hands were tiny and her feet showed were as clear and unblemished as the day she was born. She had never stood upon those feet, never held a spoon or a crayon in her little hands. And though her mother – and her father – sang to her daily of their love, she had never been able to respond to them verbally.

"_My very, very lovely girl, you are my very pretty girl, I love, love, love you so…"_

Twenty years had passed since Voldemort's defeat. Nineteen years had passed since Neville and Luna's marriage and Neville's appointment to the professorship of Herbology at Hogwarts. And eleven years had passed since their daughter was born, changing their lives entirely.

Fiona had not breathed at birth. She had not cried. She was a scrawny, wizened-looking baby with distant eyes. She couldn't figure out how to coordinate breathing and eating; eventually she just gave up eating and milk dribbled out of her mouth. In the first month of her life, healers at St. Mungo's had to save her life twelve times. It was as though Fiona was determined not to stay long.

And it was a decision the healers supported. "Merlin willing, she'll pass away quietly in the night, and then you can have a healthy child."

Everyone had given up on Fiona, but her parents refused to do the same. Neville spent hours rocking his daughter and pacing with her in his arms. He brewed special teas that were high-calorie and easy on the stomach, and Luna coaxed them into her daughter's mouth with tiny plastic syringes. But there were a lot of dark, dark nights and stormy days. One tempest surrounded Fiona's first birthday, when even the healers at St. Mungo's could do no more to convince the fragile, underweight girl to keep on living. Desperate and frantic, Neville had Apparated them out to a Muggle hospital. The doctors and nurses were horrified by the six-pound one-year-old, and though Neville and Luna had more questions than answers when bombarded by the Muggle health professionals, they submitted to their opinions completely.

Four months after they first arrived at the hospital, they were able to take Fiona home. She came home with a feeding tube implanted in her stomach, with braces and splints for her hands and feet, and several machines designed to keep her breathing, to keep her fed regularly.

And with the diagnosis that she would probably never walk, or talk. They weren't sure if she could see or hear, and they were nearly positive that a series of seizures had wiped out the majority of her brain function. She was always going to be dependent on her parents, and it would be a miracle if she would live past the age of ten.

"_You are my sweet girl, my very, very sweet girl, you are my love and you'll always be mine…"_

So they had moved on. Hogwarts was their home, and it was where they would stay. Neville's professorship came with living quarters, and Luna had done her best to make it bright and airy. She and Fiona spent their days doing anything Luna's imagination could concoct, things designed to keep Fiona happy.

They were surrounded by community at Hogwarts and Luna loved it. Hagrid was still there, of course, and he always welcomed Luna and Fiona for tea and cookies. Hermione had accepted the Transfiguration professorship shortly after Neville had arrived at Hogwarts, and she, Ron, and their children were frequent visitors to the Longbottom home. Harry was working at the Ministry as an Auror, but Ginny worked with her brother George at the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes store in Hogsmeade, and their family visited as often as they could. Luna spent a good deal of time at the Weasleys' rebuilt Burrow as well; Molly was always happy to see Fiona. And Professor McGonagall, one of Luna's favorite professors, was now more commonly referred to as Headmistress McGonagall, and she made time each week to visit with Luna and Fiona.

It was difficult for Luna to see Rose, Hugo, Albus, Lily, and James running around, although she always acted delighted to see them. Albus had started Hogwarts the year before, and Harry's joyful recount of his son's owl dropping off the acceptance letter had broken Luna's heart. Late into the night she sobbed to Neville. "It's just unfair! She'll never… she'll never be one of them, Neville! She won't have friends like we did, she won't ever get invited to the Yule Ball, she'll never know the freedom we did."

"And she won't ever have to fight an enemy so much larger than anything she can imagine," Neville had responded. "She won't ever have her heart broken by a guy. She won't have to worry about getting perfect grades to please her parents. She won't…"

But it had all just made Luna cry harder.

"_My lovely, lovely girl, my sweetheart, my itty bitty pretty girl…"_ Luna sang.

The clock tower at Hogwarts rang out the hour – noon. During the school year, students would be flocking towards the Great Hall, hungry for pumpkin pasties and potatoes and sausage, but since the summer had begun, the grounds were mostly empty. Neville had suggested a get-away, maybe to France or Ireland, but Luna was suddenly loath to leave Hogwarts.

"Something's coming," she said to Neville over dinner, as lovely summer breezes found their way between the gauzy white curtains in the Longbottom home's dining room, tinkling the wind-chimes hanging from the ceiling. "I don't know what, but we've got to be here for it."

Neville hadn't wanted to discount his wife's sudden feelings, and besides, remaining at Hogwarts for the summer gave him the chance to start working on new Herbology class-work. And, with Hagrid's help, he was cultivating the once-great Hogwarts citrus orchard, which was thriving in a beautiful glass greenhouse near the Whomping Willow.

But so far nothing had happened, just more of the same, and Luna was considering the extremely unlikely prospect that she had been wrong, lulled into a false sense of prophecy by the warm weather and a few too many Lemon Lifters at dinner.

So she sang to Fiona underneath their favorite shade tree, and Fiona pursed her lips and sometimes smiled, as though she loved the feel of the breeze in her hair and the cool kiss of grass on her bare toes.

Luna had her eyes half-closed, enjoying the warmth of the day, and she nearly missed a sudden movement from Fiona. Worried that her daughter was going into a seizure, she sat bolt upright.

But instead Fiona was extending one pale arm in the general direction of sky, her fingers curled tightly into a fist as she struggled to grasp something just beyond the tree's branches.

"What is it?" Luna asked quietly, brushing hair from Fiona's forehead.

Fiona pursed her lips and her eyes jerked to the side, looking towards her mother. She blinked and looked back towards the sky.

An owl practically dive-bombed the tree, crashing to a halt a bit drunkenly on the grass between Luna and Fiona. The tawny brown owl had a pattern of white specks on its back and a heart-shaped white patch on the back of its head, which Luna could see as it struggled to its feet and ruffled its wings. In its beak was a parchment envelope.

Luna reached out and tried to take the note from the owl's beak; it gave her a glare with its yellow eyes and turned its attention to Fiona.

"For her?" Luna asked, and the owl bowed its head, then hopped to Fiona's side and laid the envelope on her chest.

Immediately the girl's breathing quickened, and something like a smile twitched at her lips. Fiona jerked one arm towards the owl, and instead of flying away in fear, the owl merely bent its head and allowed the girl to brush against it before it chirped a bit and flew away.

Luna's heart began to beat a bit faster, and she suddenly heard a strange rushing in her ears. The letter on Fiona's chest was addressed in bright green ink, and Luna recognized the handwriting as she picked it up.

But it couldn't be… unless it was some sort of joke.

"It's addressed to, Miss Fiona Longbottom, Sixth Oak Tree on the Right, Hogwarts Lawn, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland," Luna read, carefully slitting the envelope open. Inside were several folded sheets of parchment. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorceress, Chief Spellcaster, International Confederation of Wizards."

It all _looked_ very real. Felt real, too. And the green ink – classic McGonagall.

But still…

Fiona pursed her lips and moved one hand closer to her mother. Startled, Luna continued reading:

_Dear Miss Longbottom,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1__st__. We await your owl no later than July 31__st__._

_Yours most sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress_

"_Ahhh_," Fiona breathed.

Luna set the letter down, her head still spinning. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so very proud of you. I just don't know… how did this…? Not that I'm not _thrilled_, but it's just that…"

She was sounding like Nargles had infested her brain.

"We'll go ask Daddy what this means," Luna decided, and she stood, flicking her wand at the seat cradling Fiona's body. The seat rose into the air and unfolded itself into the cart-like wheelchair that was Fiona's main mode of transportation. Enchanted by her mother, with some aid from Aunt Hermione, the wheelchair went everywhere Fiona did, changing from a supportive seat to a wheelchair to a flat, cradle-like bed as necessary; it held her upright at the flick of a wand and returned to a flat position with another flick. It could be enchanted to roll on its own, but mostly Luna liked to push the chair. She loved to see Fiona's face as they changed environments or saw something particularly astonishing.

Fiona's eyes were locked on the letter, and when Luna laid it on her chest, she managed to jerk one arm towards it, pinning it against her body. "_Ahhh_," she informed Luna happily.

And Luna recalled her words to Neville – "Something's coming. I don't know what, but we've got to be here for it."

Was it really that odd that she had been _right?_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: If you like this story, it would mean a lot to me if you review. I love reviews! Enjoy this chapter!

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><p>Neville wasn't in the greenhouse or the Herbology classroom, so Luna headed for his office. She levitated Fiona's chair up two flights of stairs, then resumed pushing the chair down the long third-floor corridor.<p>

As she rounded the corner the chair's prow collided solidly with someone.

"_Oof!"_ Neville uttered as he bent over. His teacup hit the floor and shattered, and the papers he was holding fell to the floor in a sudden blizzard.

"Oh, honey, I'm _sorry!"_ Luna exclaimed. She took out her wand and pointed it at the teacup. "_Reparo!"_

"Thank you, darling," Neville said, righting himself and gathering the papers. He took the newly-fixed teacup from his wife and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Where's the fire?"

"Oh, nowhere," Luna said. "I was just… coming to see you."

"For lunch?" Neville asked, his face brightening as he tried to get the papers back into an orderly stack.

"Well, I suppose, but…"

"You're being awfully tongue-tied about something," Neville said. "But I would love to take you to lunch, if you can wait until after my meeting with Headmistress McGonagall."

He tucked his papers under one arm and fondly caressed Fiona's cheek. "And you too, my sweet."

"What are you going to see the headmistress about?" Luna asked.

"I'm actually not sure," Neville replied. "I just received an owl that said she wanted to see me."

"I want to see _both_ of you," came a strong, melodious voice from the far end of the corridor. Minerva McGonagall swept along the hall, heels clicking on the stone floor. "I just hadn't had enough time to send the second owl."

"We received your owl," Luna said, and tried to take the letter from Fiona. But the parchment was tightly squeezed beneath her daughter's suddenly-spastic arm, and so for the moment it remained exactly where it was.

"Good," McGonagall said with a genuine smile. "Right this way, if you would. There's someone here who wants to meet both of you."

The headmistress' office was cluttered with books, crystal globes, and the usual detritus of administrating. The portraits on the wall greeted the visitors, and, in the flesh, Hermione rose from her seat to throw her arms around Luna. The brunette's eyes were shining. "It's just so wonderful, Luna. I'm so happy."

Before Luna could puzzle out Hermione's meaning, the Transfiguration professor had moved onto Neville, wrapping her arms around him as well. Within another blink, she was crouched down by Fiona's chair, kissing the girl's pale cheek.

"What in the name of Baba Yaga is going on?" Neville asked, setting his papers and his teacup on McGonagall's desk. "What's everyone gone so gooey-eyed over?"

"Sit down, Mr. Longbottom," McGonagall said, and with a flick of her wand drew up a chair. "You too, Luna."

Obligingly Neville and Luna did as they were asked; Luna quickly brought Fiona's wheelchair into a sitting position. The girl, fiercely holding her crumpled letter, gave McGonagall a beatific smile.

"Tea?" McGonagall asked once the couple was seated.

"No, thank you," Luna said.

"Just tell us what's going on," Neville said.

"Allow me to introduce Juliet Marat," McGonagall said, and stepped behind her desk to reveal a slim, dark-haired woman sitting at the far end of her office. "She's come from America to see you, and… well, I suppose I'll just let her speak."

"Thank you, Professor," the woman said. She was impeccably clothed in a floor-length robin's-egg blue dress, her long dark hair pulled back away from her face into a thick braid. She was young, but there was a certain cast to her eyes that bespoke experience and heartache. "I'm from Hollowley."

"The American school for magic," Hermione said in a low tone, her aside clearly meant for Luna and Neville.

"We're flattered you came all this way," Neville said.

Juliet Marat gave him a small smile. "I didn't come for you," she said. "I apologize if that sounds blunt, but had the stars aligned differently, I never would have left my home, and that would have suited me just fine."

She shifted in her chair. "But that is neither here nor there. I am here because of this."

From her shoulder bag she drew out a scroll of parchment and an object wrapped in a brown cloth. "One of my professors had an extremely clear vision about a month ago," she went on, holding the scroll out to Luna. "Once we were able to decipher what it meant, I came as soon as I could."

Carefully Luna unrolled the scroll, and Neville leaned towards her so they could both read the message scrawled there. "_You must go over the seas and far, far away, to give the gift of life to one who is living but who is not living at the same time. Sunny-eyed and sun-haired, she is waiting. She has no speech, no voice, so you will be her speech, her voice. Give her the Eye with which she will see, the Ear with which she will hear, the Tongue with which she will speak. Make no mistake, they will try to tell you she is not alive, but you will see in her eyes that she most definitely is. Do not take 'no' for an answer, for she is waiting. She has been kept silent far too long. Her Eye, her Ear, her Tongue – take them and make haste!"_

"And you think this… prophecy… applies to Fiona?" Neville asked, looking up from the scroll.

"There is no doubt in my mind that it does," Juliet Marat answered.

"How can you be so sure?" Luna wanted to know. Her heart was beating very fast; it felt as though it was shaking her entire body, though she knew she was not moving. "How did you… _find_ her?"

"Who can say what the eye of prophecy may choose to see?" Juliet replied.

Neville was shaking his head. "There's no way that this prophecy is about Fiona. I think you may have come to Hogwarts in vain."

Juliet nodded. "Well, have you seen the letter your daughter is now in possession of?"

"No," Neville said slowly as he turned to Luna. "What letter?"

"I thought it was a mistake," Luna said. "It _has_ to be a mistake."

Juliet stood and crossed the room to where Fiona sat propped in her chair. The girl's eyes were on the ceiling of McGonagall's office, and she appeared to be concentrating very hard on something invisible. When Juliet reached for the letter crumpled beneath her arm, she tightened her arm and stuck out her chin. "_Hnnn_," she informed Juliet.

"Show your father," Juliet said, and took the letter from under Fiona's arm.

Neville accepted the paper and for a moment said nothing as his eyes scanned the letter. "Headmistress, is this… is this true?" Without waiting for an answer, he said, "No, it can't be true. Simply impossible."

He looked up at Juliet Marat. "Again, my apologies that you came such a long way. Our daughter will not be a student here. She… she does not speak, and we do not know if she can hear us or even see us. And she is… she is very _impaired."_

Juliet Marat accepted this with a cool expression. "I can see you are skeptical, Professor Longbottom…"

"Skeptical is the wrong word," Luna hurried to say. "We're very flattered, but…"

"But for eleven years we have struggled to keep our daughter alive," Neville interrupted, taking Luna's hand and squeezing it tight. "We have done so against all odds and recommendations. And she is a joy and we would not have it any other way, but she is simply far too impaired to be a student. Her mother and I have accepted the fact that she will be ours to care for, for the rest of her life."

He squeezed Luna's hand tighter.

"Show them, Juliet," McGonagall said, raising her teacup to take a sip.

"As you wish," Juliet said, and returned to the chair where she'd placed the cloth-covered object. "May I have your permission to perform a quick experiment? I assure you, it is painless, and if I am wrong about all this, we will know quite quickly, and I will return home and leave you to your summer."

McGonagall regarded the Longbottom parents with sharp eyes, and Hermione leaned forward. "What's the harm in trying, Luna?" she asked.

The blond nervously tucked her wand behind her ear. "I… if you think it would be best."

Juliet drew the cloth away and revealed a small glass box. With quick, practiced fingers she drew out three perfectly circular stones. She stepped closer to Fiona and gently pressed one stone to the girl's throat, one to the inside of her right wrist, and one to her left temple. From McGonagall's desk Juliet took up a small wooden dowel; she placed this in Fiona's right hand and curled the girl's fingers around it. McGonagall moved an empty glass vase to the edge of her desk and nodded at Juliet.

Juliet drew her wand from her dress sleeve and pointed it at Fiona. "_Sonorus_."

For a moment nothing happened, and Luna's heart beat so painfully that she felt it would crack her chest.

Fiona's head rolled to one side, and her mouth opened a little. Her tongue thrust up against her teeth.

Luna's heart pounded in her ears, and she squeezed Neville's hand.

The right hand, the one curled around the dowel, jerked a bit to the side, splaying over the side of her wheelchair.

The movement was so quick and so synchronized that a blink would have rendered a viewer incapable of seeing it, but then –

Fiona's hand jerked towards her body and at the same time her mouth closed a little.

The vase on McGonagall's desk shattered into a thousand teardrops, hailing around the room and falling into every corner of the office.

Neville had his wand out and was about to mutter _Reparo_ when Juliet grabbed his wrist and shook her head.

Fiona's eyes had not left the ceiling; she still appeared to be calculating the number of stars painted on the overhead mural. Her tongue was still thrust up against her teeth, and her eyes blinked as her head lolled.

And there it was again –

Her hand jerked, her mouth closed, and the vase returned to itself, sitting whole and heavy on the desk.

Juliet Marat wore a smile like a cat enjoying a saucer of cream.

"That could mean anything," Neville said. "For all we know you have produced a very capable false wand, and exploited our daughter's hand spasms."

"Is it really so hard to believe what is right in front of you?" Juliet mused, and gave Fiona a smile. "Try something else, sweetie."

Fiona gripped the dowel a little harder, her eyes still on the ceiling. Then her eyes jerked towards the center of the room, and her tongue thrust up against her teeth as her back arched. "_Hnnn_," she spoke softly.

And there, in the center of the room, was a floating alphabet and a golden bouncing ball of light. As Fiona stared at the letters the ball moved, flashing the light over a series of letters so quickly that it looked like a series of shooting stars.

"Did you catch that?" Juliet asked, still looking extremely pleased with herself.

"I did," Hermione said, her voice hushed in awe.

"I don't…" Luna started.

The ball moved again, Fiona's eyes jerking over the alphabet. Juliet sent a small spark from her wand towards the floating letters, and it immediately slowed the ball's frantic movements.

Fiona repeated the same eye movements, and this time both Neville and Luna could see what their daughter was spelling.

"S-h-o-p-p-i-n-g i-n- D-i-a-g-o-n A-l-l-e-y I w-a-n-t t-o g-o!"

For a moment Luna listened to the rush of blood in her ears, her eyes focused on the glowing letters.

Next to her Neville had brought his hand to his mouth, looking more astonished than Luna had ever seen him.

"M-u-m D-a-D s-a-y s-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g," the letters spelled. "M-u-m D-a-d h-a-p-p-y y-e-s?"

And Fiona smiled her beatific smile, and spelled out, "A-c-c-i-o t-e-a-c-u-p."

The teacup in McGonagall's hand flew away from her and landed on Neville's lap.

Fiona's smile grew wider and she laughed her usual gasping, choking laugh that sounded far too close to a seizure for her parents' liking. Her bare feet dangled over the footrest of her wheelchair, her toes moving quickly and excitedly.

"It's amazing," Luna breathed.

"It could still be…" Neville said, and then he sat up with a look of sudden purpose on his face. "Fiona, if this is truly _you_ spelling, and not some sort of charm designed to sucker us in, tell us something only _you_ would know."

Fiona gave her father what looked like an impatient smile, and flicked her eyes over the letters. "Y-o-u c-a-l-l m-e y-o-u-r r-e-v-e-r-i-e b-e-c-a-u-s-e y-o-u g-e-t l-o-s-t i-n m-y e-y-e-s."

And for the first time in her eleven years of life, Fiona Longbottom's father cried over her with pure, unadulterated joy, his hand still clutching the teacup his daughter had _accio_'d into his lap.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Reviews are love! Enjoy this chapter!

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><p>Twilight fell. Outside birds were singing, and a soft breeze blew gauzy white curtains through the windows of Fiona's room. Luna bustled in and out, putting away laundry and preparing Fiona's nighttime machines. The sky was purple and rose, and Fiona thought it was the prettiest sky she had ever seen.<p>

She had the three stones still attached to her throat, wrist, and temple; she had refused to let anyone remove them. They felt like a part of her now. They felt like they had always been there. She found that she didn't need the dowel in her hand to control the glowing alphabet and the ball that zipped between the letters. It was as though she merely had to concentrate on the stone at her neck and the letters glowed brightly in the air; she concentrated on the one at her wrist and the cursor flew across the letters, spelling out her thoughts nearly as quickly as she thought them.

Luna was able to catch only a few of Fiona's spelled thoughts as she came in and out, but they were good ones. "I w-a-n-t m-y o-w-n w-a-n-d y-e-s?" and "M-a-y-b-e I w-i-l-l g-e-t a-n o-w-l y-e-s!"

When at last Fiona was ready for bed, Neville came in and gave her three kisses, one on each cheek and then one on the top of her head. "Goodnight, my dear," he said.

She smiled up at him. "D-a-d y-o-u g-i-v-e t-h-e b-e-s-t k-i-s-s-e-s."

"What does Mum think about that?" Neville asked with a smile.

"Doesn't matter what Mum thinks, not if you're the best," Luna said. She carefully attached the feeding pump to the little tube in Fiona's stomach. Throughout the night, the little machine would give Fiona the majority of her calories. The girl already had her leg braces and hand splints on.

"See you in the morning, love," Neville said, and he gave her another kiss before he left.

Luna flicked her wand at the star lantern in the corner of the room. The overhead lights went out, and the star lantern lit up, patterning the ceiling with a series of constellations. "Tell me something," Luna said, looking at the stars started to move. "Have you always… have you always been in there?"

Fiona moved her eyes over to the letters. "I d-o-n-t k-n-o-w p-r-o-b-a-b-l-y."

"Has it been… has it been horrid, your father and I treating you like you're an infant?"

Fiona considered this as the stars on the ceiling twirled over her face. "Y-o-u l-o-v-e m-e a-n-d t-h-a-t i-s m-o-s-t i-m-p-o-r-t-a-n-t."

For what seemed like the millionth time since the meeting in McGonagall's office, tears filled Luna's eyes. "You are a sweetheart, anyone ever tell you that?"

"Y-o-u d-o e-v-e-r-y d-a-y."

"Well, good." Luna started the feeding pump and brought up the mask that would blow oxygen into Fiona's lungs throughout the night. She fastened it over the girl's face. "Now, don't stay up all night dreaming, all right?"

Fiona rolled her eyes. "M-u-m t-h-a-t i-s a c-o-n-t-r-a-d-i-c-t-i-o-n."

"All the best things are," Luna said, and she carefully closed Fiona's door behind her, leaving the tiny girl lying in bed underneath the spinning constellations.

Out in the living room, Neville was on the couch reading _The Daily Prophet_. Luna sat down beside him and snuggled up against him.

"Hmm, that's nice," Neville said, his eyes still focused on the newspaper.

"Yes?"

"Very nice."

"Mmm?" She gave him a kiss on his neck.

"That's nice as well."

"But you're still focused on that newspaper," Luna pointed out.

"Sorry, my dear," Neville said. "I'm just reading this article about a scandal at one of the American schools of magic."

"Not Hollowley," Luna said.

"No, no, one on the other side of the country," Neville said, and he closed the paper. "It's probably nothing."

"What did you think of that woman today?" Luna asked.

"Why? What did you think of her?"

"I asked you first, as childish as that is," Luna said.

"She seemed a little standoffish, but perhaps she's just a typical American," Neville said. "And what she did for Fiona, I mean… I've nothing to compare to that experience."

He put the paper on the end table and put his arms around Luna.

"It just seems too good to be true," Luna said, relishing the weight of his arms. "Almost eleven years in silence, fearing the worst, and then… and then this."

"It's a relief, if you ask me," Neville said. "I mean, I would have loved her the rest of her life in silence, but I'm so happy to know that she's in there, that she's been there all along. I think I worry less now."

He nuzzled the top of Luna's head. "Guess we'll have to go shopping for school supplies now, hmm? Wands and robes and books…"

"She wants an owl," Luna said.

"An owl," Neville said, laughing. "How completely normal. Coming from you, I was expecting her to want a Thestral baby… or maybe a Snorkack."

"Oh, honey," Luna said. "First of all, she can't see Thestrals, and secondly, Snorkacks are terrible pets. Too messy."

"You're right. An owl's probably a better choice."

"Much smaller."

"What do you think her favorite subject's going to be?" Neville wondered.

"Well, perhaps she'll have a gift for Herbology, like someone I know…" Luna said, and she stretched up to give him a kiss.

"That'd be wonderful," Neville said, smiling. "Just wonderful."

They sat there on the couch, snuggled together, watching as the summer evening lengthened and the shadows gradually overtook the lavender and rose sky.

And when the sky was finally dark, and the bells of Hogwarts chimed eleven o'clock, they closed the French doors and readied themselves for bed. A quick peek into Fiona's room showed the girl peacefully slumbering, surrounded by her puffy white bedding, the stars still twirling overhead. Beneath the mask the girl's lips had twitched into a small smile, and Luna realized that it was truly the first time she had ever seen her daughter truly _relaxed_.

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><p>"Headmistress?" Hermione said, sticking her head into McGonagall's office.<p>

"Come in," McGonagall said, not looking up from her notes.

Hermione came in and sat in front of the desk, nervously clutching her hands.

McGonagall set down her pen and looked up. "Shouldn't you be home, my dear?" she asked kindly. "Such a lovely summer evening…"

"Oh, Ron's taken the kids to the Burrow for the weekend," Hermione said. "I thought I'd get caught up on some of my reading."

"Still, we won't have so many nice evenings like this," McGonagall said. "Barometer says the weather's falling."

The headmistress smiled and lowered her reading glasses. "But you didn't come here to talk about the weather, did you?"

"It's about Juliet Marat," Hermione said.

"What about her?" McGonagall stood and went to the sideboard. She poured lemonade into two glasses and passed one over to Hermione.

"Thank you. I did some checking up on her," Hermione said, accepting her glass. "I can't find any record of her at Hollowley."

McGonagall took a long drink of her lemonade. "Tastes just like those Muggle candies our dear Albus used to love," she said with a bit of a whimsical smile.

"Does she teach there, Headmistress?" Hermione asked. "Or…"

"That was my understanding," McGonagall said.

Hermione drew out a sheet of parchment from her bag. "Here," she said, and passed it across the desk to McGonagall.

The headmistress took another drink of lemonade and set her glass on the desk. She put her reading glasses back on and studied what Hermione had given her – a chart depicting all of Hollowley's staff members. She scanned down the page. "She's not listed."

"No," Hermione said.

McGonagall looked up. "Oh."

"And I've sent an owl to Hollowley to see if they can explain that – they say they've never heard of her. So, where did she come from?" Hermione asked.

"She said Hollowley, and I had no reason to doubt her," McGonagall said. She sat bolt upright in her chair. "Merlin's beard – Fiona!"

"That's why I came down as soon as I found that," Hermione said, gesturing to the sheet. "You don't think…"

"I don't know what to think," McGonagall said.

She rose and went to the window, looking out at the darkened grounds. "We need to get those stones back, to figure out what they are… if they pose any danger to Fiona."

"I agree, Headmistress," Hermione said. "But…"

McGonagall turned back to the younger professor, who was tucking her wavy hair behind her ears. "But what?"

"But Luna and Neville have waited eleven years to hear what their daughter has to say," Hermione said. "Even if it's false, even if it's not real, don't they deserve just one night with her – with her as she truly is?"

McGonagall considered this.

"I love Fiona almost as dearly as if she was my own child," Hermione went on. "And I know that if she _was_ my own child, if I had cared for her nearly eleven years with no apparent progress, to wonder every single day what she was thinking without any way of finding out – I wouldn't want that to end. And if it _has_ to end, let's give them until morning."

At last McGonagall nodded. "It can't hurt. Morning's only a few hours off."

"I'll go straight away in the morning," Hermione said. "They should hear it from someone who…"

"I understand completely," McGonagall said. "And for their sake, I hope this is nothing more than a case of _confundus_-headed staff members, because the joy I saw on Luna and Neville's faces today is something I desperately wish they could hang onto forever."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Thank you to all my reviewers and readers. Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

><p>Hermione couldn't sleep. In her office, lanterns burning and far too many books piled open on her desk, she stared out at the grounds. The summer breezes rustled through the trees and seemed to bring the sound of wind-chimes to the Transfiguration professor, but she knew that was ridiculous. The wind-chimes hanging from the French doors in Fiona's bedroom were too far away from her office to be heard. Hogwarts was a big place, after all.<p>

She had spent the last three hours going over all of the books she could find on magical artifacts, looking for the box with the stones that Juliet Marat – or whatever her name was – had brought into McGonagall's office and then implanted in Fiona's neck, temple, and wrist. So far, nothing had caught her eye. Nothing even similar.

"But I won't give up," she murmured, watching as the breeze caught the long trailing branches of a willow tree and made them dance.

It was true what she had said to McGonagall – she loved Fiona as if she was her own. The thought that someone would want to hurt the sweet pixie or her parents was simply too painful to consider.

Thoughts surged through Hermione's brain, almost too many to consider. She sighed and propped her head up on her hands as she watched the willow's branches twirl and lift in the wind.

She wondered if Neville and Luna were awake, staring at their daughter and wondering how, after eleven years, they had been granted a reprieve from Fiona's silence, wondering if they were the luckiest people on earth, or if they were sleeping, sated by the knowledge that, for the first time in eleven years, they would wake up to a daughter who loved them as deeply as they loved her.

The wind died down and the willow leaves stopped dancing. Hermione sighed again and turned away from the window. It was time for more research.

* * *

><p>Fiona lay in her bed, surrounded by her soft white bedding, with the star lantern overhead projecting constellations on the ceiling in a golden haze. The mask over her face, connected to a small processor on the floor by a long tube, blew air into her lungs, keeping her breathing while she slept.<p>

But now she was awake, watching the stars. Something felt wrong.

Her chest was tight. The stone on her neck burned. The one on her hand felt tight and hot. Her temple was pounding and the stars overhead seemed to multiply before her eyes.

There was someone in the corner!

Fiona twitched and jerked back. Her head rolled to the side. The mask slid up over her mouth, and drool ran down her chin.

After a moment the stars seemed to stabilize. The dark figure in the corner didn't move.

Fiona could feel her heart pounding in her ears. She was sick to her stomach, and panic was flooding through her limbs. Her spastic arms jerked up towards her head, pounding at the plastic mask over her face and the tube connected to it.

"Fiona, please don't worry," a soft voice said.

Fiona panted in fear. Her body was rigid. She couldn't get away, she couldn't make any noise, she couldn't even alert her parents in the next room.

"Fiona, I am not here to hurt you."

The stones pressed hot and hard against Fiona's skin and she whimpered under the mask.

"Please, child, do not be afraid," the voice went on.

Pain arced down Fiona's back and her ribs ached.

_Tell my mum I love her_, she thought as the dark figure came closer. _And tell my dad he really does give the best hugs. And tell them I love them, love them, love them…_

* * *

><p>Luna jerked upright. Someone was pounding on their front door.<p>

"Neville," she whispered. "Neville, somebody's here."

Her husband murmured and rolled over.

"Neville," Luna said, a bit louder.

There was more pounding. Louder, more intense. And someone was calling their names: "Luna! Neville! Open up!"

That got Neville's attention. He grabbed for his wand and the lights came on. Luna grabbed for her wand and sat up. "Fiona!" she cried.

"Wait, wait," Neville said. "Wait! We don't know who this is!"

He scrambled for his slippers and adjusted his nightshirt, then bolted for the door.

"Open up! Open up!"

"Who's there?" Neville called, holding his wand high.

"Hermione!" came the response.

Luna hurried to Fiona's room and flung open the door.

Neville murmured, "_Alohomora!"_ and the front door swung open to reveal Hermione. "What are you doing here?" he demanded of the brunette.

"Where's Fiona?" she demanded in response.

In Fiona's room, Luna screamed.

Neville and Hermione ran towards the sound.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Luna shouted. "_Stupefy!"_

The scene was difficult to describe – a dark figure bent over Fiona's raised bed, dark fingers twined in the girl's blond hair. The figure's face was like a hole, horrible and empty. As Luna shouted the spells, the figure seemed to burn in the golden light of the room, crinkling around the edges like a piece of paper held near a candle. Then, abruptly, it jerked back from the girl and hit the floor.

Neville waved his wand to turn on the room lights. He rushed over to his daughter's bed and looked at her. Her arms were drawn up tightly and spastically against her body, and tears streamed from her eyes. The mask over her face was surrounded by drool and snot, and her chest jerked in and out with each breath. She looked terrified.

And the stones were still firmly attached to her pale skin, but now they looked as though they'd been seared, branded, _burned_ into her.

"Shh, my love," he whispered, leaning in closer to wipe Fiona's tears. "It's going to be all right."

"What is that?" Luna asked, still pointing her wand at the dark figure on the floor.

"I've never seen anything like it," Hermione replied. The brunette's voice was wobbly, but she extended her wand towards the figure as well. "But I came to tell you… Juliet Marat is an imposter."

"An imposter?" Luna asked, sounding horrified. "She's not a professor at Hollowley?"

"No," Hermione said.

On the floor, the dark figure slumped in a huddle, looking no less menacing than it had leaning over Fiona's bed. Hermione stepped carefully towards the figure, wand still held out. With one pointy-booted foot, the professor none-too-gently prodded the figure in the stomach.

And the black robes encircling the figure fell away from its face, revealing the woman who had been identified as Juliet Marat.

"What is she doing here?" Luna asked.

"I don't know," Hermione said, "but I have reason to believe that she was trying to harm Fiona."

"You mean… it's not…?" Luna looked horrified as she began to consider the implications. "Is she…?"

She hurried over to her daughter's bed. Neville was inspecting the burn marks on Fiona's wrist and face. Luna sat on the end of the bed and pulled Fiona into her lap, rocking her back and forth. "I am so sorry, my darling. I am _so_ sorry."

"We need to take her to Madam Comfrey," Neville said, naming the healer who had taken over from Madam Pomfrey. "These burns look serious."

"And this wretch needs to go to Headmistress McGonagall," Hermione added, "so we can figure out what she's doing here."

For a moment she allowed herself to look away from the woman crumpled on the floor, and over at Neville and Luna. "I'm sorry that I ever thought this woman was on our side," she said softly.

"Why would someone want to hurt us like this?" Neville asked, looking over at Hermione. "Why would anyone want to hurt _Fiona_ like this?"

Luna leaned forward until her forehead was touching her daughter's forehead. "I am so sorry, darling."

"If Juliet isn't who she says she is, and the stones weren't a gift to help Fiona, does that mean…?" Neville's head was spinning. "Fiona's alphabet, everything she said, was it real?"

"Don't think about it now," Hermione urged. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

She said, "_Mobilicorpus!"_ and levitated Juliet Marat's body out of the room.

Neville watched her go, and then turned his gaze to Luna. His wife sat slumped over their daughter, both of them rocking back and forth as Luna wept. Fiona's eyes were wide and terrified as she looked up at her mother, her spastic arms jerking incessantly. A low, dull moaning came from one of them – Neville wasn't sure which one.

"Whatever happens, we'll get through it," Neville said, but his words sounded hollow in the room, the room that had once been so beautiful and filled with possibility for Fiona's life but which now seemed frightening and far too large for the tiny girl lying broken in her mother's lap. "Whatever happens, we're in this together."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thank you to all my readers and reviewers. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

><p>The lamps in the hospital wing, though simple lanterns, seemed far too bright to Fiona's eyes. Cradled in her father's arms, she drew in a spitty, snotty breath. She wished that the pain would stop, that she could somehow communicate to her father that he needed to get the pain to go away.<p>

"Put her here," Madam Comfrey said. She was young, nervous-looking, but extremely competent. She had trained under Madam Pomfrey and worked alongside the older witch until her skills were finely honed. The usual bouts of boils, owl bites, and Quidditch injuries never fazed her.

Neville set Fiona on the indicated bed carefully. Even the slightest movements were causing her pain; he could tell from the little moans escaping from her mouth. Luna hurried to set the breathing apparatus up on the floor next to the bed.

"Oh, my," Madam Comfrey said as she came over. "What are those stones?"

Before Neville or Luna could answer, she said, "It doesn't matter, they'll have to come out."

Madam Comfrey called for one of her assistants. "A pain draught, right away." She bent down to Fiona's level. "Sweet girl. This'll hurt, I'm afraid. We'll make you go to sleep."

Panic widened Fiona's eyes, and she began to thrash around on the bed, moving herself as best her spastic limbs could allow.

"Shh, sweetheart," Luna said, though her own eyes were filling with tears. "Shh, it'll be all right."

Fiona pulled her legs up towards her chest and sucked in a gooey breath, pain creating a vocal _honk_ as she tried to fight off whatever was coming.

"She can't swallow," Neville said as Madam Comfrey's assistant drew near. From the pockets of his robes he produced the apparatus for Fiona's feeding tube – an overly large plastic syringe and a small tube to connect to the port in her stomach. "You'll have to give it to her this way."

"Oh, my dear," Madam Comfrey said. "You are a broken little sparrow, aren't you?"

Fiona thrashed away from the healer, spastically shoving her heels into the bed. Her eyes were full of fury and fear.

"Hold still, my lovely," Luna said. It felt like the room was spinning around her. Her head hurt and her arms were sore from trying to hold Fiona to the bed. "It'll be over soon, I promise."

It was a promise she had no hope of keeping or even following through on. But it was all she had.

Somehow Madam Comfrey and her assistant managed to pour the pain draught and the sleeping draught into Fiona's feeding tube. The girl fought the potions the whole way, looking at her parents as though horrified that they would subject her to such torture.

At last her body went limp, the spasticity leaving her, and her eyes drooped closed. Neville quickly moved to slip the breathing mask over Fiona's nose and mouth, so that she would keep breathing. If not for the surroundings and the dire sequence of events that had brought them there, Fiona could have been at home, on her own bed, taking a nap.

Neville stood and pulled Luna to him and hugged her tightly.

"I want it to be over," Luna sobbed into his shoulder.

"I know," he murmured.

"She doesn't look like our Fiona," Luna sobbed. "She's too loose, too empty. She's…"

"It's still her," Neville said.

"Where did the stones come from?" Madam Comfrey asked.

"A false professor named Juliet Marat. We were told they could help Fiona communicate, but I feel now that we were lied to," Minerva McGonagall said from the doorway. Hermione was behind her.

"Has she confessed?" Neville asked the headmistress.

"No," McGonagall said. "Unfortunately she is still Stunned. I visited my portrait at Hollowley and had a good long talk with their headmaster. He knows Juliet Marat, but only as a former student who was ejected from the school following association with some Dark wizards."

Hermione crossed the room and came to give Luna a hug.

"We'll have to take the stones out," Madam Comfrey said. "It will hurt a great deal, I'm afraid."

"Professor Longbottom, Luna," McGonagall said, "I apologize for putting you through this. When Juliet and I spoke, I really thought there was a connection with her. I really thought that she was sincere. She had the Prophecy with her."

"It's not your fault," Neville said.

"She seemed sincere to me as well," Luna said. "I'm just glad Hermione came to warn us."

The sun was rising over Hogwarts. Madam Comfrey looked out the window to the Quidditch pitch. "I'll be done before midday," she said. "It would be better for you if you were not here during the procedure. I'll come and find you the second we're done, I promise."

Neville brushed Fiona's hair back and gave her a kiss on her forehead. Luna held her daughter's hand tightly for a moment, as though attempting to memorize what it felt like to have someone love her as deeply as Fiona did.

And then they left the hospital wing, Hermione shepherding them out like sleepwalkers lost in a dream.

Somehow they ended up in McGonagall's office with large glasses of brandy in front of them. Neville took a long pull off his and then settled back in the armchair.

"Neville," McGonagall said, "Luna."

They looked at her. Luna tucked her hair behind her ears, and for a moment McGonagall saw the eccentric, Nargle-chasing student the blonde had been. "The letter that was sent to Fiona," the headmistress started.

"It was wrong," Luna said in a choked voice. "It must have been wrong."

"No," McGonagall said.

"But she doesn't… she isn't…"

"If this is all a hoax, then Fiona doesn't belong here," Neville said. "She's just our lost dreamer, like she always was. Silent, wide-eyed, and never there."

He took another pull off the brandy. "We love her, of course. She's ours. But…"

"But you were hoping for more," McGonagall said quietly. "And that's exactly why I sent that letter."

"My head feels like it's being eaten by Nargles," Luna murmured.

"The letter was sent before Juliet Marat even darkened our doorstep," McGonagall said.

"No. It's just impossible. It just cannot be."

McGonagall rose fluidly from her desk and went to one of the bookshelves lining the office. For a moment she scanned titles, and then pulled out a thin tome, which she handed wordlessly to Neville.

"_Great Silent Magick Practitioners of the Later Centuries_," Neville read.

"There is a spell known to only a few," McGonagall said. "We don't usually perform it any longer, because it has become easier to find our young witches and wizards, even those who are Muggle-born. But a long time ago, when those who practiced magic were often hidden, the great witches and wizards needed a way to find them, so they could be educated."

"And, what? You performed this ritual on Fiona?" Neville asked, looking up at the headmistress a bit skeptically.

"On her last birthday," McGonagall said.

"How could you do that?" Neville demanded. "You didn't have our permission!"

"Wait," Luna said, putting up a hand. "Headmistress, if you'll forgive me, but you weren't _at_ Fiona's last birthday."

"But I was," Hermione said softly.

Neville and Luna turned on her.

"The headmistress asked me to," Hermione said.

"There were a few signs," McGonagall said. "I was curious. I asked Hermione to perform the spell as discreetly as possible."

"What signs?" Luna asked.

"Do you remember last spring, when the two Flemish unicorn trainers were staying with Hagrid for a few weeks?" the headmistress said. "I watched Fiona have a conversation with one of their unicorns."

"How did she… converse with it?" Neville sounded a bit suspicious.

"It was all conveyed in facial gestures. For someone who doesn't speak, your daughter is remarkably fluent in conversation," McGonagall said. "I realize that to an outsider, or to someone who wasn't watching her as closely as I was at that time, it would have seemed as though nothing was going on, that she was merely paying very good attention to a unicorn. But every single movement of her eyes, of her tongue and lips, every jerk of her arms… they seemed meaningful."

"They could have just been a seizure," Neville said, still sounding suspicious.

"Ah, but then I talked to the unicorn," McGonagall said.

"You talked to the…? Headmistress, even I find that a little silly," Luna said.

"Well, to one of the trainers," the headmistress said. "The Flemish are known for their psychic abilities, and this one was carefully attuned to the unicorn I saw Fiona 'talking' with. And he had a quick conversation with the unicorn. It turns out Fiona was asking the unicorn about what it was like to travel, to see other places, to be free."

Tears welled up in Luna's eyes again. "To be free."

"It was then that I realized there had been other signs, as well. Every time I observed Fiona at any gathering when she was around our esteemed professors, she was watching them intently, like she was lip-reading. I tested my hypothesis by asking Professor Flitwick about some of the most archaic Charms I could think of, and she followed my every word. I think she even understands Professor Flitwick, dear man," McGonagall said.

"So, based on this… theory… you asked Hermione to perform an archaic ritual?" Neville asked.

"Not so much archaic as just… not used," Hermione said. "And completely painless. And, oddly enough, it looked cute. Remember the sprinkling of pixy dust I created out of the end of my wand? I tried to make it into a crown but it looked more like a necklace. That was it. Just a bit of glitter and a few murmured words."

Neville looked at McGonagall and Hermione as though he'd never seen either of them before. He reached for the brandy glass and took a long, _long_ drink.

"The potential was there, Neville," Hermione said. "Fiona lit up like a gorgeous, sparkly lamp."

"So what you're saying…" The brandy was having its effect on Neville.

"Your daughter is a witch," McGonagall said. "Although, coming from families like yours, I couldn't see how she _wouldn't_ be. And yes, there will be a few barriers to her learning experience. She's locked inside her body, which is why I was so excited when Juliet Marat said she had a solution."

The headmistress smiled and took a small sip of her own brandy. "But we'll find a way. She's in there, and she's very smart."

* * *

><p>The bells were ringing for noon when Luna snuck back into the hospital wing to see Fiona. Her daughter lay very still on the bed where Neville had left her, still connected to her breathing apparatus. Madam Comfrey's assistant sat in a chair next to the bed, reading.<p>

"Hello," Luna whispered.

The assistant looked up. "Oh, hello," she said with a small smile.

"How is she?" Luna asked.

"She's very tough," the assistant said.

Luna looked down at her daughter. The stones had been removed from Fiona's face, and heavy white bandages were in their place. Small, red, burned tendrils scrolled out from underneath the bandages, and Fiona seemed to moan every time the machine breathed for her.

"She is not in much pain," the assistant said, almost a bit shyly. "She is sleeping very deeply."

She closed the book. "Your daughter… does she dream?"

"I like to think so," Luna said, and sat down on the bed to brush hair away from Fiona's face.

"Where do you think she goes?" the assistant asked.

Luna watched Fiona sleep, the girl's mouth jerking, drool running down her chin. "Wherever it is… she's free."


End file.
